The Northern Approach Read online

  “Asrahn,” he said softly as the voices faded away in his mind and the woods cooled abruptly. “Mother…are you here?”

  “I have been here longer than you, child” came the snippy reply, moving around him with the breeze. “I do appreciate the choice of familiar tone, though. A question for me or did you miss this old female? Where is my daughter, Estin? She was with you the last time you called.”

  “She’s gone, Asrahn. Killed by the Turessians.”

  The chill of the area grew so intense that Estin thought his fur had begun to frost over. This time, the voices returned with whispers of rage, though he could only hear three of them, rather than the huge throng of spirits speaking at once.

  Shivering, he forced himself to continue. “More are about to die if I can’t find a way to help,” he told the ghost, looking around at the trees, despite knowing she would not be visible unless she wanted to be. Given her breed, he had learned to expect her to appear at a time of her choosing and not a moment earlier. “Three of my friends are going to be killed by a Turessian.”

  “Turessians you have fought more than once, child. Why come to me for advice now? They did kill me, too, after all. I am not the best choice of guides.”

  “There are undead with the Turessian…more than I can handle.”

  “You have all the magic I could teach you and now far more than I knew,” admitted Asrahn, moving around Estin. He closed his eyes and it seemed like she was with him, walking in a circle nearby. It was only when he opened his eyes and saw no one that his mind would accept she was gone, like Feanne. “Use the magic or die like we did. Death comes to us all in time. Live until it is time to die and then join your mate on this side of death.”

  Estin swallowed hard, trying to think of how to proceed. He knew what he wanted to ask but dearly wanted to avoid the topic. With Asrahn he realized it would be better to simply come out with it, no matter how uncomfortable it made him.

  “Mother,” he said, the word sounding awkward, as she had died before he and Feanne had been life-mated, “you were one of the voices in my head when On’esquin offered me power, were you not?”

  The old lioness chuckled as she continued to circle Estin like a predator stalking prey. “I was, child,” Asrahn said. “Lihuan thought it foolish for us to play that game with you, but he was right there whispering with me when the time came. That old fox did always love talking.”

  “What do you know about the powers he gave me? I’ve been unable to control it and I’m terrified of what it will do to me. I need a way to truly control it…to use it to save my friends.”

  That seemed to surprise Asrahn. She stopped walking and came over to Estin’s side, though she was still not visible to him. “Estin, that power is yours only as long as you can drag it around like baggage to serve you,” she told him. “If we had seen any other way to save your family, we both would have shouted at you to stay away. You can either find that strength inside yourself or use the powers the way their original master intended…though that could be even more dangerous than letting it consume you. You might not know the way to control it, but Oramain does…we do not want him awakened. Once he wakes, his magic will return and there is no way to know what that man will try to do.”

  Estin looked right at the spot where Asrahn’s voice came from and she slowly appeared before him. As he remembered her, the fox-lioness hybrid was large and strong, built for battle. Despite her build, Asrahn was old, far older than most wildlings ever lived. Her yellow fur had an almost grey cast from age, but the red that ran up her muzzle and striped her trail was still vibrant. She watched him with a motherly concern she would never admit to.

  “What can I do with it if I learn to control his power?” Estin asked, unwilling to dodge the issue any longer.

  “You ask as one who already suspects,” the old wildling said, her feline eyes narrowing. “Tell me your understanding and thoughts, and I will tell you mine. Should they match, you might have your answer.”

  “On’esquin said that the spirit that is in me was a Turessian…a powerful one. One of the first.”

  “Yes. Those you face now do not even compare to the first few.”

  “He also said that this Turessian stole the spirits of those he watched die, using them in the war against his foes by raising them again to fight on for him. Raised long after their bodies were cold.”

  “Also true. You are dancing around a question, are you not?”

  “Mother, I need help,” he confessed. “My friends will die without an army coming to their aid. Even if the power comes from Turessi, I need it.”

  “This is not the question you wish to ask me,” Asrahn told him, lowering her face until her nose nearly touched Estin’s. The chill of the grave radiated off of her. “I will answer what you will not ask. Estin, this spirit is powerful, even torn apart and shoved into your body. It can bring the dead back, but doing so will likely awaken it to who and what it once was. When we decided to help you gain its power, we wanted to see you use it to augment yourself, not for what it once could do. If you do this, he will know who he is again. He will tear you apart and leave you to die.”

  “Can it bring my family back?”

  Asrahn slapped Estin instantly, her hand passing through the back of his skull with the same sensation as icy water splashing him. “You are a fool, Estin,” Asrahn insisted, walking away. “Do you not understand what dragging the dead back from their graves could entail? Do you have any understanding at all of what you are asking? Would Feanne or Atall want you to do this or are you doing this for yourself?”

  Estin’s ears flattened back and he lowered his head in shame. He knew she was right, but he also could see no other way, shy of walking away and letting the others die. “I will ask their permission and then try,” he told her, rather than ask. “Unless you have another way?”

  Asrahn snarled and paced, but then shook her head. “No, there are no other ways that I see, son,” she said, coming over to kneel in front of him. “You need the powers for yourself if you are to survive the orc’s plan. Using Oramain’s magic this way will cost you everything, Estin. You are not as strong as Oramain was, and this is far from a permanent solution. Are you willing to put your own life at risk to have nothing more than a chance to see them one more time?”

  “You know I am, Mother. I have been willing to die for them since before they were my family. If you could strike me down and bring them back, I would never hesitate.”

  Smiling and shaking her head, Asrahn replied, “This is why you were the male I’d always hoped Feanne would find. You were a better mate for her than any of the others, despite what was best for the pack. Do what you must, Estin, but do not call me again. Let me rest without knowing what has come of this. When I see you next, I wish it to be after you have lived long and found your end bravely.”

  Before Estin could reply, Asrahn faded away, leaving the woods empty and the invisible weight on his shoulders far heavier.

  “Time to see if Feanne and Atall are willing to live again for a time,” he said to himself, already missing his old mentor and his mate’s mother. He could not fault her for wanting to be left alone, but it was like losing her all over again. “Wish me luck…”

  Without prompting, the small fox that had cowered at Estin’s side through the meeting blurted out, “You can bring her back? I couldn’t hear Asrahn talking but I have to ask if this is wise…oh dear…” Estin’s attention snapped to the animal, who looked around nervously before sitting down and letting out an entirely fake, “Yip?”

  “Who are you?” Estin growled, grabbing the animal by the neck, ensuring she could not escape. “What are you? Answers…now.”

  The fox kicked and flailed, her claws raking Estin’s arm, but he would not release her. Finally, she relaxed and glared at him, nodding in acceptance. “We have met, Estin,” the animal told him. “Release me so I can prove it to you.”

  “No.”

  “Then we are at a stalemate and
our allies are going to die. Let me go and I will help how I can.”

  Estin hesitated but released her, remaining tensed to strike if she tried to run.

  Stepping back, the fox lay down and closed her eyes. A second later, she winced as her limbs snapped in odd directions and her whole body began to contort and change. It was similar enough to Feanne’s changes as a lycanthrope that Estin hardly noticed or concerned himself, other than to wonder what this creature was that had followed him, scaring Raeln each night. As she changed, his mind raced through things he or the others had said around her, thinking through conversations for anything that could cause more problems for them.

  Soon the fox’s fur began to fall away and her muzzle shortened. Claws disappeared into fingers, and her body slowly took on the shape of a human woman. The transformation continued a little longer as vines grew from her body and wrapped around her, sprouting leaves. Looking up at Estin, the dryad-looking woman appeared truly ashamed. Long brown-green hair hung almost to the ground as she remained kneeling, watching Estin with bright green eyes that matched those of the fox.

  “Dalania,” he said, scowling at her. “Feanne’s friend from the pack. Why would you not just tell me who you were? Why deceive me? Why even follow in the first place?”

  Lowering her eyes as she got to her bare feet, Dalania stretched, her joints crackling like old wood. Once she had stretched enough, she sat beside him. “Feanne was my ward, Estin. That was her father’s last request. When you came back…I sought to move on, though her and I shared much about our magic. After the attack, like many there, I had lost those who were dear to me…”

  “You spent the whole time with the pack avoiding everyone. I don’t think I saw you more than a dozen times over those months, right up until the attack in the valley.”

  Smirking, Dalania said softly, “Like many there, I was learning how to be myself again. I found…I found a friend there who was helping teach me how to escape my past.”

  “I had no idea you were even involved with someone.”

  “I hardly approved of my own feelings,” she admitted. “Men have been cruel and harsh to me my whole life. He was…honest. I knew his thoughts because he could not keep his mouth shut about them. It was refreshing, but with him gone, I did not know where to go. You and Feanne had vanished.”

  “Finth?” Estin asked, remembering the dwarf’s nonstop pursuit of the dryad fae-kin woman. “He was creepy even to me when he spoke about women.”

  “He had a good heart. I intended to wander the world, but then Raeln and On’esquin came along. Yoska showed up soon after. I followed them as an elk for a while, intending to leave once I was sure that Yoska would not be hurt by them. When you appeared, I wanted to come and tell you who I was, though I was concerned about traveling with four men.”

  “You could have come to me separately and you know it,” Estin snapped, getting up. “There is no excuse for hiding it this long.”

  “I agree, but I could not speak or shape-change when we met. The same force that kept your magic from working at the lake kept me from using my abilities or overcoming the limitations of the form I had taken. By the time we left, I could not convince myself that you would be calm about my deception, so I kept waiting for the right time.”

  Estin took a deep breath and shrugged. “I really don’t care right now, Dalania. My friends may already be dead. I need to hurry.”

  “They are fine for the moment,” she countered, smiling slightly. “An entire herd of deer just ran through the village, and the undead are having a very hard time not chasing them. Do what you can and I will keep the enemy distracted for you. Your friends will live as long as you need to do this. I cannot win this fight, but I can stall for some time.”

  Estin laughed in spite of himself before bowing and thanking her as she backed to the edge of the clearing, putting a hand to one of the trees there.

  Turning back to the empty woods, Estin let his concentration take hold again, with the voice of the dead following. He could feel his whole body had been weakened as the magic he had just used drained his strength. Each time he used magic, it made him more tired, and calling forth spirits was about as hard a trick as he could manage. At this rate he worried that even if he managed to pull off the impossible and bring back his son and wife for a few hours, he would be too weak to help fight for his friends. Unfortunately, he had to summon spirits one more time before he could even try to use the magic Oramain’s spirit left within him.

  “Feanne, Atall,” he said aloud, narrowing the whispers of the spirits to those two and putting images of them in his mind. “Come to me, if you are willing.”

  Cool winds washed through the woods, letting him know at least one had come. He opened his eyes and saw both stood in front of him, smiling grimly. Both fox wildlings watched him with amused impatience.

  “Why are we here, my mate?” Feanne asked, and her eyes fell to the bag of her remains at Estin’s side and then went to the necklace he wore with her claws. “You should have moved on by now. We have been dead a long time.”

  Atall seemed less concerned, leaning against a tree, his attention drifting between Feanne and Estin. He noticed Dalania and bowed his head in greeting before looking back to Estin.

  “I need help,” Estin told them, seeing Feanne’s brows furrow. “My friends are about to die. Yoska is with them.”

  Feanne looked over at Atall, who shrugged and said nothing. “Estin,” Feanne said after a moment, “we are gone. Find your help among the living. Dalania can help you far more than I can.”

  “I can bring you back,” Estin blurted out and both spirits’ eyes widened. “Not like the Turessians do with the undead, but with your spirits intact. It would be temporary, but you would live again for a few hours.”

  Atall’s hands clenched and he shook his head. “Nothing that powerful comes without a price. Magic is one thing I know all too well, and that kind of magic is far beyond you, Father. I will have no part of it. I would love to help you, but I am happy here and will not put you at risk for an hour of life.”

  “I will not push the issue,” Estin told him, reaching out to touch the boy’s face. His hand passed through, but it was still soothing to see his son again. “You will not be forced. I wanted to ask for help, not demand it.”

  Atall touched Estin’s hand and smiled, nodding in understanding.

  “You may try with me,” Feanne said a moment later, surprising both Estin and Atall, judging by the boy’s expression. “If I return as anything less than a living being, you are to destroy me and banish my spirit forever, understood?”

  “Feanne, that’s more than—”

  “Dalania?” Feanne asked, turning to the fae-kin. “If my mate is unable to fulfill this request, you will destroy me and then him, lest he slip into the same madness as the Turessians.”

  Estin looked over at Dalania, who watched him for some idea of what was going on. Taking a deep breath, he passed along Feanne’s request.

  Bowing deeply, Dalania replied, “You have my promise, as your father did before you.”

  Feanne’s bright eyes turned on Estin and she smiled coyly. “Do this if you feel confident. I will help how I can for as much time as I have. I would always welcome another hour to fight at your side, my love.”

  Atall stepped toward Feanne and took her hand as though it were solid for him. “I will see you again someday,” he told her, clinging to her hand tightly. “When you have found peace for real, we will finally meet again, Mother.”

  Feanne pulled Atall close and pressed her cheek to his, squeezing her eyes tightly shut to prevent tears from escaping. A second later, Atall faded away and Feanne let her arms drop. “Do this before I question the sanity of your plans again, Estin,” she told him, wiping at her face.

  Estin closed his eyes, partially to concentrate and partially to keep from seeing his mate weep for their son. He sought within himself the feelings of immense power and rage that had come with the spirit’s awake
ning the last few times. Inside his own mind, he found fear and uncertainty, but there was no hint of the raging creature that On’esquin had placed there.

  “He knows anger and death,” Estin reminded himself, pushing down his growing frustration.

  Despite spending months trying to put aside thoughts that haunted him, Estin drew them to the surface. He thought about Atall’s death, focusing on wanting to kill Arturis, not the sadness he had initially felt. He slowly began to feel something that seemed to pulsate within his chest, making it hard to breathe. Taking that as a good sign for what he was trying to do, he redirected his thoughts to the vague memories of his parents dying, now horrifically connected to the Turessians.

  Slowly, he felt rage and the hum of energy grow within his chest, burning through his limbs. His senses became more clear and he could hear the undead moving about in the village, smell the decay on them and the blood of his friends, and feel even the slight tremors in the ground from the flock of deer running through the woods, circling back on the undead.

  Estin began to shape the magic, pleased that he had found some way to control the Turessian spirit inside him, when all of the energy seemed to abruptly pull away. Clinging to his anger, he tried to draw it back, but it fought him. His heart pounded as he struggled within his own mind and body to control an intangible force.

  “Come on,” he whispered to himself, his whole body trembling with the effort of keeping the magic from escaping. “Dammit. Stop fighting me, Oramain! Show me you can do this!”

  Warmth flared through Estin’s skin, making his fur feel as though had caught on fire. Magic then formed around Estin as a shield and a weapon, burning like fire across his claws and fangs as it sought to escape into whatever he had to fight. Dozens of distinct voices shouted in his mind, made more intense by the transformation his body went through. These were not the voices of the dead that lingered in the minds of every healer, but voices of those he—or rather, Oramain—had watched die. The number of those voices grew each second, making Estin wonder how many Oramain had at his disposal before he was defeated.